


Not as Black

by cytheriafalas



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytheriafalas/pseuds/cytheriafalas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for <a href="http://fillina93.tumblr.com/">fillina93</a>'s prompt for Demon/Angel on my <a href="http://fangirlingtendencies.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>. Minho is sent down to deal with a demon, but things don't go exactly as the guys upstairs planned. The angels have characteristics of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SC7C2wwDS4">The Prophecy</a> and Supernatural, more than any real religious angels. Title comes from Dante, "The devil is not as black as he is painted."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not as Black

Minho landed in a crouch, feeling the concrete crumble beneath his feet. He stepped out of the small depression and rolled his shoulders, trying to get used to the way it felt to be on Earth, the way his balance was just slightly off without the physical feeling of his wings behind him.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” a familiar voice said.

Minho spun, trying to find the owner of the voice. He was surrounded by shadows and couldn’t even see movement, but the voice kept rotating slowly around him.

“You should be more careful where you land,” the voice said. “You never know who might be lurking, waiting for a chance…”

He didn’t specify what the chance was, but Minho didn’t kid himself. It wasn’t to bring him coffee, especially as he was pretty sure the one talking to him was the reason he was sent down here.

“How’s the monkey suit?” the voice continued, still circling. Minho held himself still, tilting his head slightly to gain even the tiniest advantage if he decided to reveal himself.

“As good as any of them,” Minho answered, expecting him to attack as his hearing was slightly altered by the sound of his own voice. It never came.

“Handsome.”

“I don’t notice those things,” Minho said.

A dry laugh. “No, of course you don’t. You angels, you have no need for things like physical beauty. You _make_ your monkey suits irresistible, even dress in all white. Pure. Perfect.”

Minho caught his hand smoothing his white shirt. Deliberately, he pulled his hand away from the fabric. Another laugh came from just behind him. “Vanity is a sin, you know.”

“I never was a very good angel,” Minho said. “It’s why they sent me after you. I’m not like my brothers, to follow orders like that.”

“I can make it so you never have to,” the voice said, right behind him. Minho made to turn, but he felt a tight grip on the base of his wing, or where his wing would be if it were physical in this form, and froze. “I can cut your wings off, pretty little angel, like a human child pulling the wings off a fly. Or… have you ever seen a butterfly without wings?”

The hand released his wing and Minho spun. The demon was standing just within the circle of light from the flickering lamp, his chin held high. He turned slowly, unzipping his black leather jacket and letting it dangle from one hand. For a second, Minho wasn’t sure what he wanted, but he felt the subtle difference, the change from the last time Minho had seen him. Minho reached for the black tank and jerked it up high enough to reveal the purple, jagged scar right where his dark wings would have sprouted. _Should_ have sprouted.

“Jonghyun,” Minho breathed. He pressed his palm to the scar and could feel the agony still burning there. That pain would never heal. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

“Me.”

“You did this? Why?”

“I don’t take their orders anymore. I’m sick of their war, of their petty disagreements and…” Jonghyun stopped, pulling away and tugging his shirt back down, slipping his jacket back on. “They want you to kill me tonight.”

“They do.”

“Will you?”

Minho shrugged, running his palm down the center of Jonghyun’s back, over the smooth material of his jacket. “That depends a lot on you.”

“Still following orders,” Jonghyun scoffed, stepping out of the circle of light and leading the way down the alley. “And you say you’re not a good little soldier.”

“I’m just not suicidal.”

“How do you know they’re not watching you now?” Jonghyun countered. “Your brothers see you consorting with me, what do you think they’re going to do?”

“Same thing your brothers would do, they see you consorting with me,” Minho countered, copying Jonghyun’s tone.

“Except I don’t have any brothers,” Jonghyun reminded him. He turned a corner and they stepped together into an empty park. It held a merry-go-round, a few swings, and a slide that was bent sharply in the middle. Minho thought he saw bullet holes in the metal of the slide. A bullet would be a minor annoyance. It would have to be a perfect shot to kill even Jonghyun, without his wings.

“What are we doing here?”

Jonghyun shrugged, perching on the end of the slide. He still sat like all of them, crouching on the balls of his feet, arms folded over his knees, hands clasped before his shins. “If you were going to try to kill me, I figured it would be easier out here than in my apartment. It’s small and there’s not enough room for us to use our weapons.”

“Come back with me,” Minho suggested suddenly. “We can try to heal you. At the very least, you--”

“I can what?” Jonghyun demanded. He didn’t move, but Minho could feel the threat radiating off him. Even damaged as he was, Jonghyun was dangerous. “I can become one of you? It doesn’t work that way. You always _were_ , same as we were. At the very least, I’ll be kept a prisoner, a _pet_ for you to watch over. A broken demon, tore off his own wings to keep himself from mattering to one side or another.”

A number of things were important in what Jonghyun had just said, but Minho fixated on one in particular. “You _tore off_ your wings? You didn’t cut them?”

“No one to cut them off for me. No one that wouldn’t follow them with a blade through the back, anyway.”

Minho couldn’t help but to press his palm to the source of the pain radiating from Jonghyun’s body. The demon shuddered a little, but otherwise kept still, balanced perfectly on his toes. “It was that important that nobody find you?”

“They’ve killed for less than my crime,” Jonghyun said. “I figured if I dropped out, they’d just leave me be. And they have so far.”

“They sent me here to kill you,” Minho said. “What do you want me to do?”

“They’ll kill you if you don’t at least try,” Jonghyun said, straightening and murmuring an arcane word that made Minho recoil automatically, his skin prickling. Jonghyun’s sword was in his hand. His sword had four blades, rather than just the two of standard swords, and was tinged faintly red. The second blade, rising out of the top and bottom of the flat was smaller, designed more for stabbing than slashing. When it was pointed straight at Minho, as it was now, it looked almost like a four-pointed star.

Reluctantly, Minho breathed another word, his fingers curling around the hilt of his own sword. The weapon fit as comfortably as air in his hand, a curving, sinuous blade, almost blue rather than silver. It was meant to kill, exactly as Jonghyun’s was, but was undeniably meant for a smoother, more beautiful style of fighting.

“We don’t have to do this,” Minho said, but he didn’t fool himself. Once a demon summoned their sword, they were going to use it.

Jonghyun took a step forward, his sword coming up high and slashing down toward Minho’s neck. Minho made an annoyed sound and stepped back, bringing his own weapon up to block. The metals made a distinctive ringing sound as they hit, making the nearby trees quiver. He shoved Jonghyun a few paces back and they paused, taking a few seconds to gauge what they knew of the other.

Minho would be faster. Angels tended to be just a little faster naturally, and with Jonghyun’s wings gone, he would be even slower, but he would be stronger. If he got Minho in a contest of brute strength, he would win. Minho was still a little off-balance in this body and one misstep would be fatal. Truthfully, Minho didn’t _want_ to kill Jonghyun, but he had no guarantees that Jonghyun felt the same way.

A sudden change in air currents and then Jonghyun was attacking again, reaching for Minho with one hand while spinning his blade to reach the angel’s unprotected side. He hadn’t been quite ready and the shorter blade bit into his ribs, sending a gush of red blood down his shirt. Even Jonghyun was surprised he’d made contact and in that moment’s hesitation, Minho scored a matching slice along his chest. Jonghyun stumbled back, pressing his hand to the wound.

“They bleed so easily, these bodies,” Jonghyun observed, flicking blood off his palm. “If we could fight in our real forms--”

“This is your real form now,” Minho reminded him. “You tore off your wings, little butterfly, and now you’re stuck.”

Minho feinted left and at the last second shifted right, aiming for Jonghyun’s chest again. He was ready, his sword catching Minho’s several feet from his body. The odd extra blade made Minho’s sword jolt in his grasp, throwing him off balance. Jonghyun pressed the advantage, backing Minho up until he was pinned against the upright of the slide. Minho pushed back, his other hand pressed against the flat of his blade. He could feel the metal cutting into his palm on both sides, but he had no chance of overpowering Jonghyun with one hand. The design of Jonghyun’s sword made it impossible for him to copy the position, but he’d had lifetimes upon lifetimes to perfect the use of it. Then again, so had Minho.

He hooked his foot around Jonghyun’s ankle and tugged, sending him sprawling to the ground, his sword landing just out of his reach. Before he could begin to move, Minho had a knee pressed into his chest and he was pinning Jonghyun’s wrists to the ground.

“You’re losing your touch,” Minho said, “or you didn’t really want to kill me. I wasn’t sure at first, but that move has _never_ worked on you.”

“I would’ve killed you if you were stupid enough to let me win,” Jonghyun countered, pushing against Minho’s hands. In this position, Minho was more than strong enough to keep him in place, especially with his knee just below the torn skin on Jonghyun’s chest. “What’re you waiting for?”

“They sent me to kill you because you were a danger. You’re not a danger to anyone in this form. Not even the flies whose wings you talk about ripping off.”

“You get to make that judgment?” Jonghyun asked.

“No,” Minho said, “but I’m not a good little soldier, remember?”

They were still for a few seconds before Jonghyun flexed his hands. “You gonna let me up?”

“You gonna keep trying to kill me?”

“My heart’s not in it tonight,” Jonghyun said, shrugging as best he could with Minho’s weight on him. After a moment, Minho nodded and released him, stepping aside warily. He spoke the word to banish his sword and his hands were again empty.

Jonghyun climbed to his feet, ignoring his sword, now just a dull iron color, and dusted himself off. Then he stepped up to Minho and kissed him, an arm slinging around Minho’s uninjured side. Minho let him take control, kissing back lazily. He swiped his hand across Jonghyun’s chest before he pressed up against him. The faint blue light spilled from his fingers and healed the wound.

“Your crime,” Minho said, when they pulled apart. “Me?” Jonghyun nodded and Minho pulled the smaller man in tight. “You are such an idiot."

“I know,” Jonghyun said, “but it worked.”

Minho made the most rash decision he’d ever made in his life. He pulled one arm away from Jonghyun and held it out, speaking the word that summoned his sword. Jonghyun tensed in his arms, but Minho ran his other hand soothingly down his back and then stepped away. He took Jonghyun’s hand and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword.

“Minho.”

“Do it.”

“ _Minho_.”

“Do you want this or not?” Minho countered, turning his back to Jonghyun.

There was a long hesitation and then Jonghyun’s other hand caught the base of Minho’s wings, right where he’d gripped less than an hour before.

“I could stab you in the back right now,” Jonghyun said, his voice hard.

“You won’t.”

Jonghyun’s hand tightened on the sense of Minho’s wings. He made one quick motion and Minho felt an immense pain and a shearing sensation. He’d known it was going to hurt, but he hadn’t expected how _much_ it would hurt. It wasn’t just like losing a limb. He was losing everything that made him an angel, the sense of who and what he was.

His knees buckled, depositing him onto the ground. He pressed his hands to his mouth, stifling his screams. His sword clanked to the ground beside him and Jonghyun was on his knees beside him, holding Minho tight.

“It fades. It gets bearable. Breathe, Minho.”

He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath and he sucked in a sharp gasp of air. The pain eased a little.

“There you go. Breathe.”

There was a cracking sound just a few feet to one side and Minho flinched. A hand grabbed his shoulder, jerking him out of Jonghyun’s grasp. He knew who it was, even before seeing him. Minho may have been less than an angel, but he was far more than a human.

“ _What are you doing?!_ ” Kibum demanded, his voice shattering across the playground. The merry-go-round turned slightly as though in a breeze.

Minho was still a little delirious with the pain. He laughed. “I’m done, Kibum. Done with all of you.”

“We’re your _brothers_!”

“Not anymore.”

“You chose him over us?” Kibum asked, pointing at Jonghyun. He was still kneeling in the dirt, head bowed. Minho couldn’t blame him. Kibum was two ranks higher than him. His aura burnt anything less than pure.

Minho had nothing to say. Kibum growled in annoyance, gesturing Jonghyun to come closer. When he didn’t come immediately, he spoke a word that had the air cracking around them. Jonghyun, perhaps deciding to protect his own skin, climbed to his feet and walked toward them, skirting around Kibum and coming up behind Minho.

Kibum dropped Minho, who fell back to his knees, and seized Jonghyun by the arm. The demon made a soft, pained sound when Kibum brought him in. He ran one hand violently down the middle of Jonghyun’s back and then did the same thing, first along Minho’s wound and then down his spine. The pain that had been burning there faded and then disappeared until it was only a dull ache, almost like a bruise.

“I can’t heal that completely; no one can. That is what I can do for you, for your service. Keep your head down and stay out of our way.”

Kibum was gone again, as though he’d never been there. The two of them stayed where they were for a few seconds until Jonghyun slipped an arm beneath Minho’s.

“Come on. Let’s get you some rest.”


End file.
